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| Scribelords05-15-06, 05:50 PM | COCO Writing Contest Submission The time has come, young bards, to see who can spin the best tale this month! First, a review of the rules: Rules: -Write a creative/cool/intriguing tale about a COCO character. The theme is open (mystery, adventure, action, horror) so have fun! -The story can be about anything (keep it appropriate please!) but must not be about an arena fight. -If your story is about, or includes, another COCO character that is not your own, then make sure you have the permission of the owner to use their creative property appropriately! -Extra consideration will be awarded to those who write within real-world locales across the world of Gladius (see World Map (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=580765)). -There is no maximum or minimum length, but surely your incredible tale is longer than a single paragraph. If your tale is longer than one post, please link your story pieces in the submission thread (see below). Prizes: There will be credits as prizes for 1st and 2nd place scribes, but here’s the catch: The more people participate, the larger the prize will be! (think of it as a pool). Even if you don’t win a contest prize, there’s a chance your story will be inducted into the Tales of Gladius thread where it’ll earn 2 credits anyway! Judging: There will be a poll set up for the entire COCO to vote for their favorite tales. Then, the top 5 with the highest votes will be taken to a judging panel, where they will be reviewed for quality, length, and entertainment. Deadline: The 20th of each month will be the deadline for that month’s entries, where a thread will be set up a week beforehand and applicants can post their stories there. You may edit your submission as often as you want, but all submissions are final come the 20th. After that, judging will ensue and then the awards. 20 days is a nice, easy pace for any writer, allowing plenty of time for anybody with any schedule to take a little time each day to develop a really awesome story. --------------------------------------- If there are any questions/comments/concerns, please PM me (or Huan). Remember three important things: The deadline for submission is May 20th (reserve post space if you wish), you cannot be a judge if you submitted a tale (though you may vote in the public poll), and the more who submit, the greater the prize! Have fun! |
| Scribelords05-15-06, 05:55 PM | Contest Entries "Sleeping Gods (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9166822&postcount=3)", SoulLord; Character: Joe "The Prince of Achos (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9168767&postcount=4)", King Uther; Character: Aerik "New Wizards, Old Stories" [1 (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9183178&postcount=9) 2 (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9183187&postcount=10) 3 (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9183190&postcount=11) 4 (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9183196&postcount=12)], MindWandererB; Character: Silis Lueria "The Mouse (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=9198707&postcount=13)", Erithmu; Character: Ephraim |
| SoulLord05-15-06, 06:08 PM | Joe never had any formal training other than for being a stable boy back in his home town, the lure of the city and making quick gold in a city that was filled with it appealed to him. He searched jobs in the city but it always seemed like there was someone better for the job already on it he thought that being able to read would account for something but the people here were much better prepared than he was. Weeks passed and money ran out still not ready to return home he visited the local temples hoping for food and shelter, it seemed like the city had all kinds of gods and numerous temples as well. That’s when he found a temple not dedicated to any god in particular; the building was not as big as the other temples barely two stories high once inside he saw small statues filling the walls and shelves almost as if they were books. Some figures were not even humanlike and other had symbols and other stuff like swords, scales and a fishbowl?? This place intrigued him so he went to search for someone who looked to be in charge. Sir what is this place? This is the hall of all other Gods, as you know Gladius doesn't close his gates to anybody and many of the people who come look for a place to pray to their gods this ...... is the place to do so. you won't find many followers of loki on the city but they still would like a temple to pray to him, few people can't afford to erect a temple but they sure can pay to reserve a place for their god here tell me young man what god do you follow? No one, really. A small rumble could be heard echoing through the halls. Then you have come to the right place, it happens from time to time that someone arrives with their beliefs of their gods, but as it happens sometimes they pass away some of them being from far away places you could say that they were the only representatives of their God here. Do you know what happens to a god when all of his followers are gone? No it is said that they fall asleep until a follower pronounces again his name in reverence, take a look at the back row perhaps something will find you useful. The old man surely meant that perhaps he would find something useful.... still not sure why he walked to the back row surely this was the place where those gods that ha no followers ended up. The place was dark and moist with little room to pass between the shelves holding the figures; still he did almost as if drawn to something. As he checked the small figures and things he noticed what seemed to be a platinum piece with an inscription on it "Garathos" what kind of name was that, still a platinum piece was a platinum piece. Thank you Garathos, I appreciate it. Joe grasped the coin firmly in his grasp, but before he left he noticed a small journal with the same inscription on it. better take it with me as well Joe thought and speeded out of the temple of all other gods perhaps it was his sense of paranoia but Joe thought that the keeper saw him a smile on his face. He ran until he reached the gardens of gladius sure that no one would bother him here he began to plan what to do with his newfound wealth. He couldn't just show up somewhere and ask for the coin to be split in his condition he would be sent to the prison for stealing. Trying to take his mind off it he opened the small book and began to read it was almost as if the words arrived to his head before he even read them, Joe couldn't stop reading once he had started the book spoke of promises of power and wealth to his followers and of death and pain to his enemies.... All he had to do was to follow some simple rituals. Joe never managed to do it as someone else had been watching him in the gardens Joe and his shinny coin alone in the gardens. A few moments later all that could be seen was the now naked body of Joe with his throat slit a few bloody steps leading out. Garathos huh? Well thanks for the Gift man I appreciate it..... A rumbling could be heard in the distance, sometimes it was better to let old gods sleep. edit:spelling &typos corrected |
| King Uther05-15-06, 10:25 PM | The starry void above cast a moonlit glow over the grasslands West of Eljayuan (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=8390319&postcount=19) , North of the Peak of the Virtuous Swordsman. The cool yet refreshing breeze blew from atop the mountain, filling the body of mortals with feelings of vigor and truth. The moonlight glossed over the swaying grass. The quietness was only interrupted by the hint of stomping hooves echoing over the distance... The three riders, atop magebred steeds birthed for quickness and balance, cut through the wind as a sharp katana. Time was of the essence. Fire and smoke billowed over the hill to the West. Looks like the Bloody Nose Orc tribe was active after all. Finally reaching the edge of the hill, the three riders stopped, viewing a scene of horrific treachery. Twelve hours ago, the love of the Prince of Achos, Charis Monkue, was taken from her father's manor in Simarior, (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=8390369&postcount=25) just to the East. They were engaged to be married, solidifying the aristocracy of Simarior with the nobility of Achos. While that was one of the reasons for marriage, truly the Prince had fallen for the gorgeous half-elven maiden. The kidnappers were seen travelling West, but the only thing in this direction for many miles was the domain of the Blood Nose Orc tribe. Known for cruelty and human sacrifice, they were feared. But through a tough famine and a war ten years ago, the majority of the population thinned to where they no longer raided villages. They hadn't been seen for over two years. From atop Gorn's hill, the tallest hill in the grassland here, the three riders unmasked themselves, trying to get a clear picture of the scene unfolding. Prince Aerik, along with his two bodyguards, were immediately upon the heels of the kidnappers when Aerik heard of the incident. Being one of the only warriors known to have walked the Path of the Virtuous Swrdsman, he was well-received anywhere he went for both his sense of justice, as well as his benevolent kindness. But what he saw burned a hole in his heart. It was not the Bloody Nose Orc tribe. Aerik's best friend Saemon, a knight under the Achos flag, stood in front of Aerik's love, her tied to a stake. But he was not wearing the garb of a knight. Holding the blade Holy Fang, given to him by Aerik, Saemon jabbed it deep into the woman's belly, her scream magnified ten times by the caernous walls nearby. With an audible gasp the Prince made himself known, and Saemon looked at him with a smile. "Your father is weak-willed and stupid! I have worked so hard to honor my father's name and still the king denies him. But no longer. Your life is over, Aerik, as is the life of your love. Soon my father will be king and you my servant! You will spend an eternity in the dungeon, tortured from the moment you wake until I put you unconscious for sleep. The Kingdom of Achos is mine! And you are a fool, walking into my trap like that." With that the hidden army, surrounding the hill on all sides, creeped up, preventing any escape. His guards, noble samurai from the East, fought valiantly to stave off the ambushers, but with enough time they were slain. The Prince was trapped, captive to his best friend's schemes. By the morning, the Castle Achos had been stormed, with the King killed for treason against Achos. A plot involving selling the land off to Simariorian interests had been spread, and by the time the King was killed everyone had no choice but to believe it. The Prince had been imprisoned without trial, and Saemon's father Kurtuk sat on the throne, claiming Simarior to be the enemy, inciting a draft and training for war. Justice had been denied. Truth had been concealed. Only a tiny light of hope remained, gleaming in the eyes of the young man imprisoned underground. And without his influence to guide the nation, a darkness crept over it as if a plague. Soon rumors of Simariorian spies were afoot, sending the public into a panic. No one could be trusted, as a secret police began persecuting innocents. These were surely dark times in the Kingdom of Achos. Oppression was a way of life. And the darkest thing of all was in the betrayer Saemon's heart. Hatred, jealousy, greed. He had sold his own soul for nobility. And so only a tiny beam of light touched the deepest darkest cell underneath Castle Achos. But with that shred of hope an entire nation could flourish and survive. And with it freedom..... This is not a story meant to win this contest. It is merely a place to put a backstory to my upcoming campaign about the Liberation of Achos. I figured in this respect more people would read it and become interested in it. It's funny how leaving the story halfway done for 8 hours changes everything. |
| Iced05-15-06, 10:30 PM | Reserved for Story |
| Sindorin05-15-06, 11:28 PM | Changed my mind, won't be writing a story. |
| Zevox05-16-06, 12:15 AM | Due to some addictive video games and foolish procrastination on my part, my story won't be ready for this month. Sorry. |
| MitzaVolchenko05-16-06, 05:35 AM | Drifting in a lazy circle above Gladius, she thought about what had brought her here. The fresh memories and the warm thermals rising from the city took her back across many leagues to the place and time that lit the cold fire of revenge in her heart... |
| MindWandererB05-17-06, 07:05 PM | It was graduation day at the Arcane Order, and the entire school had turned out for the ceremony. Celebratory pennants streamed in the air, and the professors, in all their dignified glory, were arrayed in their finest robes at the head of the stage—all except for the halfling Tan, who was conspicuously absent. In the rows of seated graduates, Shedrimme Lyria, a female high elf of exceeding beauty, leaned over to whisper to the gray elf seated next to her. “Where do you think Professor Tan might be?” Her classmate, Silis Lueria, thought about it for a moment. Silis was always a very careful speaker, never opening his mouth until he was sure his words were correct and precise. “I don’t know. Very likely, he’s gone to arrange some surprise for the celebration after the ceremony.” “Bah, I bet he’s just off playing with those dogs of his, and lost track of time,” said a third graduate seated nearby, a female dwarf named Folona Metalbinder. Shedrimme looked shocked. “Don’t talk about Professor Tan that way! He’s an excellent teacher!” An upraised eyebrow from Silis caused her to hesitate. “Well, he’s not about to miss our graduation, anyway. You know he wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Silis nodded. Tan was not the best teacher at the Order by a long shot—in fact, his lectures verged on the incomprehensible, although he was always amusing—but he was always caring, even affectionate, toward his charges. “I’m sure he’ll be here, Shedrimme. Just give him time. Remember that time he had that…accident with the dogs? He still made it to class even through all that.” Shedrimme giggled. “Poor Tan. I wonder who came up with the idea of using cantrips to make his clothes smell like meat?” Silis smiled, a twinkle in his eye. Folona noticed it. “You! That was your idea, you sneaky elf.” Seeing the dark glare of Professor Marcos for interrupting Professor Auburn’s speech, she flushed and hunched up apologetically. “Was it really?” Shedrimme asked. “You always seemed so innocent!” “Seeming innocent is the only way to get away with things, Shedrimme,” the gray elf responded. “It’s worth playing yourself up as an obedient little student for a couple of good gags. And the most fun part is watching the blame fall everywhere but on you.” He sighed. “The only part I regret is that I could never tell anyone the real trick in all that. The dogs would have torn his clothes apart if they just smelled like meat. I made it so that while they smelled like meat, they tasted like hot peppers. That way, every time they got some in their mouth, they’d let go—but then they’d go right back to trying.” The dwarf chuckled. “I can’t believe it was you after all that! How did you ever come up with that stunt?” “There’s actually a story behind that,” Silis replied. Glancing at the program for the graduation ceremony, he did a quick calculation and decided he’d have time to tell it before the graduates were to go on stage. “It was when I was spending a year as a librarian’s assistant that I ran across this book….” -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The book was old, very old. That was about the only thing you could say about it, though; it was also very boring. In the thirty-third year of his life, the young Silis Lueria spent most of his time inhaling dust, or so he felt about it. He had always been intelligent, so his parents and the elders of Tel’vin In’iness continually “encouraged” him to take up academic studies. This year as a wizard’s apprentice, the next as a legal clerk, and now as a librarian’s assistant. Although everyone kept telling him that the road to scholarship was through the library, the only thing Silis felt he was on the way to was contracting the “white-lung” disease from breathing in all this dust. The libraries beneath Tel’vin In’iness were extensive, as most grey elf libraries were. The one Silis spend his days dusting was particularly large, partially due to the city’s location. The city was built out of the rock in the southern reaches of the Thunderpeak Mountains, and as such had extensive contact with the high elves and wood elves in the High Forest, as well as some commerce with Gladius and its surrounds. Because of these contacts, the Great Library of Tel’vin In’iness had a wealth of material dealing with magic (both good, evil, and practical), history, economics, monsters, and many other topics. Such is the grey elves’ love of books that they would sooner expand the library than get rid of any. The library was thus a sprawling structure, certainly the ugliest edifice in the whole city, extending many stories both above and below the surface. And because the librarians seldom if ever got rid of any of their books, the majority of the library’s collection was, well, crap. Part 2 |
| MindWandererB05-17-06, 07:06 PM | Part 1 Take this book, for instance. Silis in the process of dusting the fifth basement, seventh section, fifteenth subsection, deep in the rock under the city, when he ran across this waste of paper. “Economic Significance of the Use of Hardwoods and Softwoods for Furniture in the Fourth Century of the Theocracy of Dys,” the spine read. Silis wondered that the author had crammed all that on there; the book was fat enough, but even still the author hadn’t had enough room to print his own name. Or maybe he was too embarrassed to put his signature to such a colossal waste of time. On a whim, Silis put down his feather duster and everburning torch and took the book down, wondering how the author ever managed to fill such a massive tome with such insignificant drivel. Flipping through the book, Silis was surprised to find that the book was actually blank. Every single page was just a clean sheet of yellowing parchment. He laughed quietly to himself—this book must have been a practical joke to someone at some point, the context long since forgotten. Thinking to take the book back to the head librarian so it could be removed from the shelves, Silis tucked it under his arm. He hesitated, though. He really didn’t want to carry this ponderous volume for the rest of the day, and he certainly didn’t want to make an extra trip up five flights of stairs. He considered his route, and realized he wouldn’t be coming back this way today. Shrugging, he put the book back in its place on the shelf. “Let it be a problem for another assistant librarian,” he thought. As the book settled into its place, and Silis lifted his duster to move to the next shelf, he heard a soft click. Suspicious, the elf turned around, but heard and saw nothing more. He returned to the book, removed it again, and put it back. Another click. He repeated this several more times to try to judge where the sound was coming from—it seemed to be a particular bookshelf a few feet down the aisle. Silis approached the shelf, put his duster down on a nearby reading table, then took hold of the shelf and tried to wiggle it. It moved. Another wiggle, and the heavy, book-laden shelf slid backward into the wall by an inch or so. With a certain amount of effort, Silis eventually managed to push the shelf two feet back into the wall, where it then slid to the side, behind another shelf. As Silis had begun to suspect by now, a passageway was revealed leading back into the rock. Silis considered this for a moment. The amount of dust in the passage—not to mention the amount of dust on the shelf concealing it—indicated that it had not been used in some time, perhaps centuries. The young elf could, of course, go back up and inform the head librarian (who may or may already know about it), but not only would that mean going back up and down the five flights of stairs, it would also mean that Silis could look forward to spending the rest of the day dusting and not, for instance, exploring secret passageways. His mind made up, Silis took up his magical torch and placed his feather duster across the entryway so that it would jam the door if it began to close on its own, then headed down into the depths. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The passage extended a great distance, diagonally down into the mountain, and after perhaps an hour if following it, Silis began to regret his decision. Although the passage before him was still dusty, foul things sometimes lurked in deep dungeons—sometimes things, like wraiths, which would not disturb dust. Still, Silis kept going, continually telling himself, “I’ll turn around after another ten minutes. Just another ten minutes.” And then another ten, and another, until eventually the passage forked. Welcoming the change in the monotony, Silis picked a fork, which was followed by another, and yet another. A labyrinth! This was much better than going up and down the halls of the library. The elf began following the maze systematically, concentrating fully on solving the puzzle, ignoring even the growls of his stomach that were telling him it was long past time to go home for dinner. Silis knew that there were two types of labyrinth: the kind meant to keep things in and the kind meant to keep things out. He couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would want to trap something below a library—and grey elves, with their long lifespans, would never use such a method to imprison something where there was a chance they’d escape while the elves were still alive. Only humans and other short-lived races used that kind of labyrinth. This labyrinth, then, was of the other sort. That meant two things: one, there had to be some sort of a pattern to the maze, so that whoever knew the trick would be able to go straight to the goal. Two, there had to be a goal of some kind—almost undoubtedly treasure of some sort. Part 3 |
| MindWandererB05-17-06, 07:07 PM | Part 2 Now, Silis wasn’t a particularly greedy elf, but the thought of some valuable item sitting unused and forgotten in a dusty old cave galled him. Anything that special should be brought out into the light of day, where it could be used and appreciated. He would be doing everyone a favor by recovering whatever it was. Fantasies of coming back to the city bearing some valuable artifact lightened his step as he turned left here, right there, figuring out the pattern as he went. And there it was. At a dead-end of the maze was a stone altar, atop which was…a bowl, covered in a century or more of dust. Silis eagerly stepped forward, then, remembering stories of similar treasures in dungeons, stopped and examined the floor. It was a good thing he had stopped; there seemed to be a pressure plate of some sort built into the floor, a trap, no doubt. He stepped around the trapped tile, then found another mechanism on the altar. A splinter of wood cut from the magical torch disabled that device, and he carefully lifted the bowl up, then quickly retreated to the other side of the pressure plate, lest he forget and step on it later. Gingerly, Silis wiped the dust off the bowl with the hem of his tunic. His heart raced in ancicipation, expecting to see the shine of gold or the glimmer of gemstones with every rub. As he uncovered it, first a corner, then eventually the whole piece, his heart fell in disappointment. The bowl was certainly old, but that was about all you could say for it. It was made of pewter, and the odd lumps in its surface were obviously glass and paste, even to Silis’ untrained eye. The only exciting part was the runes inscribed on both the outside and inside of the bowl, but they were runes the elf did not recognize. Whatever they were, they were old. Silis’ stomach growled again, and this time the elf heard it. It was well past time to be home, so he headed back the way he came, retracing his footprints in the dust. A right here, a left, another right… at the next intersection, Silis had to look closely, as it seemed he had previously retraced his steps here at some point. He knelt in the dust, trying to make sense of the tracks, but as he came closer, he immediately noticed something he had not seen before: the second set of prints was not his own. He had been so obsessed with solving the puzzle on the way in that he had forgotten to look for tracks—tracks that resembled claw marks, lightly scratched in the dust. Silis’ heart began to pound in his chest. Even if he managed to escape, with the tracks he’d already left in the dust, the creatures, whatever they were, could easily track Silis down and catch him in the long passageway between the maze and the library. Trying to calm himself down for a minute, the elf quickly came up with a solution. He had learned a couple of minor cantrips in his time as a wizard’s apprentice, mostly tricks that seemed to have “practical” applications, such as filling up a room with dust right after one of the other apprentices had finished cleaning it. Laughing at the memory (and remembering how he’d made a good friend by offering to help the other apprentice clean up again afterwards), he called that particular cantrip to mind and set it to work. Silis moved quickly but quietly down the hallways, backtracking as best he could, as the spell filled the path behind him with dust, obscuring his trail for good. His stomach, oblivious to Silis’ more pressing concerns, growled again, loudly, and the elf slapped he hands over his belly in hopes of keeping it quiet. Another growl pierced the silence, and Silis scowled at his own stomach, then froze. That growl hadn’t come from him. It was a feral growl, and to Silis’ panicked mind, it sounded close. He ran. Onward through the maze he ran, not stopping to look for tracks, hoping he remembered the pattern well enough to get him back out to the main passageway. It was just ahead! But just then, another growl echoed down the hallways—a growl that seemed to come from directly ahead. Crouching down near the intersection, Silis saw what he most dreaded: one of the claw marks had traveled down into the main passageway, and had not returned this way. That meant it was somewhere along the long stretch back to the library, blocking the only way out. Silis ducked into a side corridor to think about the problem. As he stood there, flattened against the wall, he heard the click of nails against the stone, coming from the other fork of the labyrinth. Silis froze, scarcely breathing, as the sound grew closer. It sniffed the air and growled again, softly, and Silis knew he was in trouble. It must be able to smell him—he could now smell it, too, a foul, gagging stench of decay. Part 4 |
| MindWandererB05-17-06, 07:08 PM | Part 3 The smell. Silis had focused so much on the tracks in the dust that he had forgotten about other methods of tracking prey, such as smell. He didn’t know whether his cantrip would cover his smell as well as his prints—he resolved on the spot to study magic more as soon as his stint at the library was up!—but that didn’t matter as long as they could smell him directly. The elf tried to think quickly, his heartbeats deafening to his own ears, the sweat trickling down his armpits. The thought of that only made him panic more—the more he sweated, the more he knew he would smell to the creatures. He knew a cantrip that could clean him off, but it was an instantaneous effect, and he’d just begin to sweat again afterwards. As the rancid monster crept closer, it suddenly dawned on him: not less scent, but more. As quietly as he could, he recited the words of the cantrip, fumbling over the words once before getting it right. He risked a glimpse around the corner to aim the spell, and the sight of the horrific, gruesome, rotting beast nearly made him lose the spell a second time. He successfully finished it, though, then flattened himself against the wall again and began to slowly creep away. It was only seconds before his success was realized. A ferocious yowl came from the long passageway, and another of the disgusting beasts leapt from it onto the first beast. The two tussled fiercely, the second beast doing its level best to bite chunks from the first one’s hide, then spitting them out when it succeeded. The cantrip had worked perfectly--the first creature now exuded the smell of a fresh, rare steak, even though its taste hadn't been changed. Silis didn’t second-guess his luck—he dashed down the passageway, his dust cantrip erasing his trail all the way back to the library. As the elf, panting, dragged the bookshelf back into place to seal the ancient labyrinth, he wondered whether he should tell anyone about what happened. Since no one came looking for him in the dungeon, he figured that his secret passageway had not been discovered. And he had no illusions about being welcomed as a hero for recovering some old bowl. He decided to pretend he’d gotten lost—of all the other librarian’s assistants, he was the only one to have never gotten lost before, but the teasing he’d get for losing this reputation was worth the right to hold on to his treasure (and keep from getting punished). He used the last of his magical reserves to clean the sweat off and cancelled the dust cantrip, so he could pretend nothing ever happened. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- “Bah! I don’t believe a word of it!” said Folona. “That’s the craziest tale I’ve ever heard. Dungeons under a library? Fool elf probably fell asleep, had a nightmare, that’s all.” The dwarf huffed and pretended to pay attention to the graduation proceedings. “But what about the bowl?” asked Shedrimme. “You kept it, right? You’ve studied divination—what did the runes say?” Silis smiled. “There’s a funny thing about that…but that’s another story, and there isn’t time for it before we go up.” Indeed, the endless speeches seemed to finally be over, and the ushers were getting the first row of students ready. “Probably needs time to make up another story,” Folona grumbled. “Take my word for it, lass, this boy’s all full of hot air and daydreams.” The gray elf shrugged. “Suit yourself, Folona. If you don’t want to hear it, I don’t have to tell it.” A twinkle in his eye gave him away again…he knew his audience was hooked. “Bah! Bah! Bah!” Folona swore and Shedrimme giggled as the three stood to get in line to receive their diplomas. “Well, I believe it,” said the elf girl. “I always wondered why Silis had such an interest in old things for such a young man.” “I’m older than you,” Silis began to object, but he was interrupted by a new sound coming from the back of the ceremony. “Stop! Mario! Popper! Down, boys, down! Good boys! No, no, down, I said! Popper! Mario! Help! Heeeeelp!” As the gathered mages, young and old, laughed at the dogs jumping all over their halfling master, Silis smiled. “Besides, whether it’s books, bowls, or jokes, old things are usually the best.” And that's that. Hope you enjoyed. This also serves as an introduction to my franchise character, Silis Lueria. Anyone who wants to campaign using him, let me know--that's what he's there for. |
| Erithmu05-19-06, 06:14 PM | Ephraim She rose the crest and saw the town she was looking for, Gladius. Rumor was that in some parts of the town there was no way to die, a theory that would soon be tested. The sword at her back would taste blood today, not her favorite past time, but the past time she was good at. She took a deep sigh and almost drifted backwards but caught herself at the last moment. The memories were striking more frequently now, they always crumpled her to her knees. She took a deep breath and stepped to the edge of the cliff. Glancing over he shoulder she saw the winded figures that were following her. Swords held with poor grips and running in heavy armor, not to mention the fact they were out of shape. Give it up, there is no where to go. She turned to face them, pulling the crystalline sword off her back she simply smiled back at them, Who said I was running? Time slowed as she took her first step; these goons were only there to soften her up, but a blade is still a blade. The first one only got out a gasp before she was in his face and driving the sword along his chest and moving on to her next target. He passed by the talkative one of the group simply putting him off balance with a blade parry. The second victim had a guisarme, she simply smiled, took one hand off her blade moved into a one handed cartwheel landing both feet on the shaft and taking two steps forward brought one foot around stunning the man, and as his head came back around she separated it from his body in the same motion. Setting her kicking foot on the ground she caught the guisarme in her off hand before it hit the ground and brought it around to point it at the talkative one. He simply dropped his weapon and ran, not that it did him any good as the pair of horses rode up. The man on the horse simply looked at the goon and ended his life without so much as a flinch. The woman was the dangerous one though. Come Ephraim, why must we always be at odds, you cannot run further than I can follow, perhaps we can work out a better arrangement for your … Skills … Ephraim shoved the enchantment out of her head, Despite the very humanoid look the woman was a master of conversation. I think not. Flipping the guisarme sideways at the horses she used the distraction to turn and run to the cliff, and turned sharply as she ran down the face. Ephraim knew she could not win that fight, not yet at least, the day would come though. Eighty feet later she stepped down on the bottom of the cliff and ran toward Gladius. It would take Isma a day to circumvent the cliff unless the succubus wanted to show herself. Doubtful, after being a slave for so long Ephraim had long learned that revealing one’s true nature was very dangerous. -----*****----- That one has become resilient, hasn’t she Marcus? Indeed my Lady, forgive me for asking, but I do not know why you continue on with her like this, you could easily control her will and be done with it. True, but where is the fun in that. She will come back her memories are becoming dangerously volatile, sooner or later she will buckle, and then she will come back to my arms and be mine. Marcus considered mentioning the dangers of letting her be free but remembered the punishment he got last time. As you wish my Lady. The pair turned to the side and made their to find the traverse. -----*****----- Ephraim had slowed down, as she had gotten closer to the city, mostly due to the trees surrounding the local area. She was glad her hunch was right, but she had this nagging suspicion that the game of cat and mouse was more fun for the cat. Climbing up into a tree she took a moment to catch her breath. She searched her memories for a good though to call forward, there were very few that were left. Isma had taken most of her memories during her captivity but she had managed to hide a few here and there. She brought Marcus forward, dangerous but needed, he had once been the mouse. Ephraim remembered riding besides Isma and having similar conversations as the one she had earlier. They chased him for over a year having more than her fair share of moments to capture the mouse Isma had always enjoyed playing with her food. She almost found a certain measure nobility in his actions, her mind wandered to his final capture. She opened her eyes and saw that she was still in the tree. The rest of that memory had freed her from the slavery, but was terrible indeed. She visibly shuddered a movement that drew the fire of two arrows that ended up on each side of her head, warning shots. Come on down and let us have a look at ya. The talkative one had another arrow nocked and aimed. She dropped down out of the tree and saw the second one off some distance. She simply raised her eyebrow in question. Remove your weapon. Sliding the greatsword off her back she stuck the blade in the ground and took a step away. Your name? Yours first. The man looked at her oddly and took his eye off his sights he considered her for a moment, and then shook his head. It doesn’t matter Lowering his head back to the bow he released the arrow, Ephraim spun drawing energy from the ether and crystallizing it into a sharp dagger. The arrow grazed her back as she released the dagger. The shard found the man’s head and buried deep into one of the eye sockets DAD! the other man looked back at her with anger in his eyes Don’t do it kid she knew it was too late for that, and was already gripping her sword in one hand and moving towards the trees. In three strides she had inverted herself along the tree branches and was running toward the dumbfounded boy. His arrow had imbedded itself on a tree behind her. Her emotions flared and she channeled them into her blade. A spark exploded as she made contact with the flesh. She returned to the man who was now writhing in pain on the ground. My name is Ephraim, I am not your enemy, but your purifier for sins. the man closed his eye and breathed his last. The memory would be locked away, another nightmare to keep her awake at night. She sighed, Why, why was I given the path of elements. She thought about the neutral memory, kneeling down to check the man she let her mind wander. -----*****----- Ephraim was 16 at the time, she had the attractions of a charming and well off man, and there was only her trial day that stood between her and a ‘normal’ life. He was cute, smart, but susceptible to charms. Her birthday came and the party began as it always did with the feast and drink. That all seemed to be blurred by the times of dancing with her would have been future husband, time slowed during those moments. She let herself feel those memories stronger, the smells, the feelings, and the closeness. Then it came crashing down. The trials: a moment where the Gods gift individuals and a prophecy of their life is laid before them, in various forms. She had stepped into the circle and the shamans had finished the words to begin the ritual. At first she felt the Gods probe her mind and ask her questions, not audible ones but in her mind. She couldn’t remember them but she knew what came next. Ephraim tried to block out the memory but it thrust itself upon her. She was glad she was on her knees so that she didn’t take the tumble. The fire ignited consuming her vision and burning her, she could feel fire burn a mark on her back and shoulders. And pain, feral pain, it came stronger this time in the memory and Ephraim fought hard not to cry out around the two dead bodies. She could remember trying to scream but not being able to make a noise. She couldn’t breathe, she figured herself dead. Then it left. When she came to her senses she was still on the ritual circle, the Shamans were around her and her would be husband was being held back by three men, What happened she asked. The Shamans looked at her and just from their faces she could tell she was about to get some bad news. -----*****----- She was weeping, two bodies were witness to tears of pain. Ephraim simply held herself and wished dearly that there was someone else to hold her. Five years later she had seen more than anyone would want to in a lifetime. She had visited Hell, been a prisoner, and was now an escaped prisoner. She regained her composure and returned her travels to Gladius. Perhaps there would be peace there, but not likely. -----End----- This is a character that I am hoping to introduce and have go campaigning under Uther, We shall see if she gets to see the lights of the arena |